Dobby Goes To Mordor
by Old Toad
Summary: The fate of Middle Earth hangs by a thread. Dobby the house-elf arrives to make a difference.


The Gryffindor common room door opened and Harry and Hermione climbed through. Waiting for them was Dobby the house-elf. He bowed to them both, a big grin on his face.

"Oh, Harry Potter sir, Dobby is so excited. Dobby is going on an adventure!"

"Good for you, Dobby. Tell us about it."

"Dobby has been waiting for this all his life, and now Dobby is going! Professor Dumbledore has said Dobby may go."

"Where are you going, Dobby?" asked Hermione.

"That's the adventure, miss. Nobody knows. I have a powerful Portkey which my old master gave me as a present."

"Lucius Malfoy gave you a present?" asked Harry, incredulous.

"No, Harry Potter, sir: the _old_ master, Mr. Abraxas Malfoy himself. He said 'this is yours now, Dobby. It is no longer mine, do you understand. Keep it safe, it is yours to use if you are ever free.' He told me that it was a Portkey that would take me to a far country. That I would know what to do when I got there."

Hermione frowned. "He probably gave it to you because it is Dark Magic and he didn't want to be caught with it."

"Oh, miss! It is precious to Dobby, because his masters never gave him another present. But, perhaps Mr Abraxas did not think Dobby would ever be free."

"Dobby," asked Harry, "did you say you have spoken to Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir. I showed my Portkey to Professor Dumbledore and he said I could use it on my next day off. He said it is not Dark Magic, but – he is so kind to Dobby, so generous – he said I should take Fawkes with me when I use it, because I should not go alone. Is that not wonderful! Dobby is so happy."

"You deserve some happiness, Dobby. Enjoy your adventure, and come back safely," said Harry.

"Dobby means to return to Hogwarts if he can. Goodbye sir; goodbye miss." And with a loud crack Dobby was gone.

"He didn't say _when_ , did he, Hermione?"

"Harry, that 'goodbye' sounded very final; I'd say that he's going right now."

A few minutes later Harry was knocking on the door of the Headmaster's office, goaded on by an anxious Hermione. The door was opened at once and a smiling Dumbledore ushered them both in.

"Please, Professor," said Hermione, "I'm terribly worried about Dobby. From the way he spoke it sounded as though he might not come back."

Dumbledore gestured at the empty perch by the door. "Well, both he and Fawkes have been taken by the Portkey, and we can only wait for their return. Dobby is realising the dream – the ambition - of a lifetime; I could not deny him it. Do not be alarmed Miss Grainger. Professor Snape and I have both examined Dobby's Portkey. It is certainly most unusual, but we are quite satisfied that it is neither malign nor false: it will take them there and bring them back again."

"Yes, Professor, but where is 'there'? Could it be taking him into great danger?"

"From the hints that Abraxas Malfoy let slip, it probably is a dangerous place, but do not worry: house-elves are very tough – as tough as goblins, though you wouldn't think it from their demeanour. Dobby, like all house-elves, has powerful magic to keep him safe."

"And Fawkes will look after him too, Professor?" asked Harry.

"As you have found, Harry, a phoenix can be a life saver. I have great faith in Fawkes. … Now, back to your house, both of you. You will be informed when they return. No more questions."

Dobby saw stony ground rushing up to meet him. Fawkes squawked and flew, then circled and settled close to Dobby, who lay spread-eagled flat exactly as he had landed, his senses invaded by smell, sound and magic. It was cold, but there was a hot fume which made his head swim and a bitter, metallic reek which made him cough. The ground trembled, and when he put his ear to it he could hear a thundering as of great motors. Overwhelming all else, however, was the sense of some magical power, dark and primordial, in the very ground beneath him.

He sat up, and opened his eyes, fearing what he might see. He had known that his adventure might not be pleasant, and he was expecting danger, but he had not expected the Portkey to bring him straight to somewhere so cruel.

"Fawkes, stay close to Dobby, for Dobby is fearful in this dreadful place."

They were on a broad, sloping path of crushed stone. There was a steep descent on one side going down, down to a bleak, half-seen plain wreathed in cloud and smoke. Across that plain, miles away and glimpsed through cloud and murk, was a mountainous construction, a massive fortress dominated by one vast, dark tower. Its name came to him unbidden; 'Barad-dûr' he muttered to himself.

On the other side of the path there was a near-vertical, rocky slope. All about was barren: all ash, dust and broken rocks; no green, nothing growing, no living thing. His attention was caught by a magical object of fierce potency, which burned like a point of fire before his inner vision. It was higher up, carried by a lone figure moving slowly up the path.

Dobby knew that his adventure was bound with that dark magic; that he should confront it. Shaking with fear he stood up and advanced cautiously. Fawkes picked up the forgotten Portkey, a small tin mug, in his beak and followed.

However, there were two others on the path between him and the one he was following. Much nearer than the first character he had seen, he could tell that, though larger than himself, they were too small to be men. They seemed to be arguing, and did not notice Dobby. One left the path and the other staggered up it, chasing after the one in front. Dobby waited, and saw the third creature rejoin the path and scuttle along on all fours after the others. Dobby followed behind.

The path ended in a tunnel going straight into the mountain. Dobby silently followed the creature, which looked like an oversized house-elf, until it had made its way into the tunnel and was suddenly outlined by a red glare further in. Dobby stopped at the entrance, terrified. Down that tunnel was the seat of the ancient magic which had been troubling him since his arrival. Compounding that was a vision of a wheeling ring of white fire, terrible and all-powerful. It was impossible for him to go on, even though he knew that his task, the entire purpose of his adventure, was bound to that evil ring.

Reeling from the power of the Ring, Dobby retreated even as the one holding the Ring claimed it as his own and the world shook. At once he was aware of a contending force, striving from a distance to command and control the usurper: he felt the force of the Eye. But the Eye, terrible though it was, was distant; Dobby was not cowed by its malign will. Once, Dobby had rushed to obey the imperious commands of the powerful, but Dobby was a free elf now. He resisted and held off the might of the most powerful being in Middle-earth, shielding those in the tunnel from the will of Sauron while Frodo and Gollum fought over the Ring.

A phoenix is not afraid of fire. As Gollum crowed in triumph, teetering on the very edge of the Crack of Doom, holding Ring and bitten-off finger aloft, Fawkes flew, a flash of red and yellow, straight at him and un-balancing him, tipped him over the edge. Unnoticed by the distracted hobbits, Fawkes flew back to Dobby even as the deep fires of Mount Doom took the Ring, and it was unmade.

Dobby felt a lifting of the spirit, for the Ring was no more and the Eye was put out. But the Fires of the Mountain raged unfettered and physical danger was imminent. As he held on to Fawkes for comfort, a blast of scorching air shot from the tunnel, bringing the two hobbits with it, a glare of fire behind them.

All stood transfixed at the spectacle, as the mighty Tower and Fortress of Barad-dûr broke, collapsed and crumbled with a shattering sound.The ground beneath them heaved, and roaring fires shot from the mountain's summit. Dobby stood behind and a little to one side of the exhausted hobbits. He called to them, but his small voice was lost in the great voice of the Fire Mountain. There was lightning, thunder, hot rain, terrible noises, a shaking of the ground, and with every moment their peril increased.

The hobbits, being hobbits, did not give up: supporting each other they began descending the winding path, to delay the inevitable if nothing more. All Dobby could do was follow behind, using his magic to deflect the hot rocks which had begun to fall amidst the shower of ash descending on them. But the time came when exhaustion and suffocating fumes became too much to bear and the path ahead was blocked. The two hobbits collapsed, dead to the world and soon to be dead indeed. Dobby could fend off some hazards, but the glowing lava crawling down towards them was beyond his power. Very soon the fury of the Mountain would take them.

Being in a place he did not know, Dobby could not apparate. Nor did he have the power of flight. He could use the Portkey, if it was ready, and panicked for a moment until he saw that it was not lost: Fawkes still carried it. But the Portkey was not ready! Fawkes took off, flew high and then landed by the unconscious hobbits, fluttering his wings. Only then did Dobby recall the amazing abilities of the phoenix: it could carry them all to a safer place. Though unconscious, the two little men were firmly holding each other. Dobby grasped one of them with one hand and Fawkes' tail feathers with the other. They flew, and Dobby felt as though they weighed almost nothing. Fawkes took them to the top of a great ash heap near the bottom of the mountain.

Phoenix tears are rare, not easily produced, and though Fawkes tried, in that dire place he had none to heal an injured hand or cure the ills of sting or Morgul blade.

Their short flight had delayed death, but not for long, for above them the mountain was tearing apart and spewing rivers of molten rock, and below them the plain was heaving, with gaping fissures sending forth noxious fumes. And still the Portkey was not ready. Their only real hope was for Fawkes to carry them on high to the mountains several miles to the west.

Now a strong wind blew from the North and the hobbits began to revive. Fawkes flew high into the air, calling as he did so. Far off the great eagles flying down the wind saw him and directed their flight in his direction, so finding the hobbits they desperately sought, though hidden as they were by the grey elven-cloaks they still wore. Fawkes landed on Dobby just as the Portkey became ready, and Dobby had just a glimpse of the leading eagle before he was yanked away back to his own world.

Without the visitors from another world Sam and Frodo would have perished in the wreck of Mordor, but they never knew this. The great eagles knew, of course, but kept this to themselves. If Mithrandir, riding on an eagle's back, saw the phoenix is not known. Probably he did, for wizards miss little, but taking counsel with himself chose to reveal this neither to man nor hobbit.

Back in Hogwarts, Fawkes took to his perch and set about tending his feathers. Dobby and Dumbledore talked long into the night. The headmaster, having listened to Dobby's long tale, was able to assure him that he had done well, done all that could be expected and more, and that the two little men were certainly rescued by the eagles that had come seeking them. Whether Abraxas Malfoy would have approved of Dobby's adventure was not discussed.

THE END.


End file.
